The Little Hunter
by Kyn
Summary: One's small, white, fluffy, childlike, and affectionate, with teeth like a shark, wingblades, and a massive scorpion tail. One's a rageing hellspawn of primal fury. Discontinued.
1. The Little Hunter, Predator

I do not own Predator vs. Alien

I do own the species of the little hunter, and her herself.

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Chapter One

It hunts those who kill for love of killing

The little hunter waited silently, unmoving, poised and waiting in the foliage that thoroughly caked the planet. It was blended in entirely with the foilage. Even the air it took the 'color' and 'quality of.' Perfectly cameleonized, it waited, its skin stripes of green and yellow, brown and the whitish gray pigment of the sky. From all angles the skin was different, giving the perfect illusion that nothing was there at all. And it waited.

Its senses shot far out into the forest around it, tasting the air, listening to the earth itself, seeing that which was far beyond the horizon. It was only a matter of time. Its prey drew near. It stayed on all fours; its taunt body close to the ground, watching... waiting... It was patient. It was a hunter. And it knew went to wait.

_There. Its prey approached._

The predator was hunting. Cloaked and moving both expertly and near silently through he trees, he was indeed a danger to whatever promising looking kill wandered his way. Armed with a shoulder cannon, a throwing disk, his spear, and his ever-deadly wrist blades, he was invincible to all but luck on the sides of the Kainde or Pyode Amedha.

Which, in a way, disappointed him. It made the prey he hunted now challenging... but in no way difficult. As long as he didn't lose his head, he was guaranteed to win. But the scull would be a fine addition to his current trophies.

He paused, proceeding onward carefully, silently, creeping over the branches with skill and deftness, and then slowly lowering himself to the ground. There, the smell. He'd found it at last. He moved through the undergrowth with feline ease, barely disturbing any plants beneath his clawed feet.

_There. He neared his prey._

The massive bear foraged peacefully through a shrub, pulling berries from it for its ravenous maws and gulping them up with sweet content.

Too easy. He chittered lightly to himself, but when that failed to gain the animal's attention he promptly uncloaked, dug his hind talons hard into the ground, and lifted his head. Beneath his mask, mandibles spread, his throat expanded, and he let loose a massive roar. To him the stupid animal greeted a challenge.

To the animal, it found itself trying to defend itself against a death sentence. It stood up on its hind legs, pawing the air lightly, roaring back.

To him it looked like a beckoning.

To the animal, it was an instinct, and attempt to scare away enemies so that it may be left in peace. And the instant the predator charged at the bear, jumping nimbly out of the way of its confused and angry bites and slashes, he was not hunting with the eyes of an animal, a creature hunting for food and perhaps honor with that food.

He was hunting with the eyes of a murderer who had prestige to gain.

And as his wrist blades tore the animal's side- a goading blow rather then one that could have been performed to kill painlessly- the little hunter was ready. The predator's taunting blow was cut short as his rib cage was crushed, his innards brutally wrenched to both sides of the torso. He paused mid-strike as the bear growled in confusion, stumbling backwards and nearly falling over itself.

Then the predator looked down at his rib cage, red eyes wide in astonishment at the green rivulets of his blood that appeared to be running over a thick appendage, a tail perhaps, protruding from his chest. If he could see his back, he would see the tell-tail curved tip of a scorpion tail, only visible in the blood that ran freely over it, like mercury over glass, with no trace left behind.

He had but a millisecond of surprised incomprehension. A millisecond of pain. And then he was yanked brutally to the side, his head and mask crumbling to the almighty strength of a massive tree. It shuddered lightly as he connected with it, but the only crackling came from the twisting metal and the splintering bone of his skull and neck.

He died almost without pain. Instantaneously. The bear lived and ran.

And the little Hunter dropped to the ground, pulling its prey to it and yanking what was left of the mask off. The thick bone of what was left of the scull shattered underneath its all-powerful jaws as it quickly engulfed the brain matter. Normally it would drag its kill off to eat in safety... but it was so hungry...

Even so, its senses were on full alert, listening for the slightest disturbance of an approaching danger. It finished the head and began to gorge itself on the rest of the body. Filled with meat, it proceeded to shred every bone, extracting the marrow and eating it, and then stirring up the dirt, mixing the shards of bone into it. It then jumped nimbly back into the trees, reshaping the clearing with its tail. Its tongue had cleaned up most of the blood. A fluid secreted by the tail had oxidized the rest, causing it to 'dissappear'.

Careful of nature, it had disturbed no plant. Careful of being found out, it had left no trace but the tiny shards of bone. Careful of tracking, its gentle smoothing had left the clearing relatively the same as when she had left.

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It hunts for food, for survival

The little hunter circled the area of grassy plain three times, listening and waiting, watching it critically as all its senses regarded the area around it. Rabbits stirred. Birds chirped from trees and ground. Foxes and wolves and predatory lizards padded silently through the undergrowht. But there were no Yautja. It crept patiently out into the longrass, moving with practiced, silent footfalls. Eventually it reached the mammoth tan rock that jutted from the center of the field and it crept onto the rocky structure, the hunter's hide and its very eyes taking on the yellowish sun-washed color. Its pressed her stomach against the rock, soaking up the heat from the hot sun. Then it curled up, its now tan and whitish wings spreading over its body, and it slept, closing its eyes.

Even then it was not defensless. Its ears and nose worked, picking up on the slightest changes in its enviroment. As it sunbathed and slept it digested, its muscle fibers hardening a micrometer more.

The little hunter emitted no waste product what so ever. Everything it digested was usuable, whether as a poison, an antedote, a mineral or proteins the body need, or an acid. The sun was an energy source on its own. Its heat and light permeated into the little hunter, furthering the creature's energy.

And hours later, when the little hunter had its fill of heat and warmth, it crept out again. Now that there was food, it was still hungry. One measly predator did not fill the stomach so easily.

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It hunts hunters

The two predators moved effortlessly through the forest. They would normally go by tree, cloaked, but this was not a hunting expedition- yet. There was generally no good prey in this area (Though they as yet had not hunted anything but small game) - it was merely a scouting mission, looking for a fellow Yautja (predator) who had come to this vicinity and not returned.

Generally no heed was paid to the fact that a warrior was missing- he could take care of himself- but the fact that he had not returned for four days made for worry, especially because he was the son of a very prominent warrior, and was becoming a very promising hunter.

They wandered throughout the area for some time, moving over several miles of terrain and scanning for any sign of their fellow hunter, both with sight and with technology.

They discovered nothing. No hint of their comrade, neither the tracking signal of his wrist computer, or sight or smell of him. The keenest smells they could pick up were four days old, and left no hint that the Yautja was still in the vicinity. Yet that was strange, where could he have gone, and why? There was to be a great hunt tomorrow, hunting the Kainde Amehda on this planet, and he would not be present-

And then one of them tripped.

Immediately the other young hunter burst out laughing. "Some hunter you are! You trip over your own feet!" The other one growled, jumping to his feet, his wrist blades extending. The other took the hint and growled back, his mandibles flaring dangerously under his mask.

Until the one who tripped looked downward, to discover he had not tripped over his own feet. The jawbone of a predator, expertly planted there by the little hunter, was protruding from the ground. The predator's red eyes widened as he cursed loudly, backing up. The other predator noticed this and blinked, kneeling and uprooting the peice. only the tip of the jaw was intact. The rest had been shreded through like tissue paper. Both Yautja looked at one another, surprized and awed by the power of whatever had crushed through the jawbone. Then unanimously they turned and ran.

They were youth. And caution could be excused. After all, the only other thing that could shred a Yautja like that known to be on this planet was a very, very, very big Kainde Amedha.

The little hunter watched them go. It considered attacking the one who had laughed at the Yautja who had tripped... but no. His heart was not black yet. He was not mad with killing- only eager to please. He had a chance. If it was to eat anything, it would not eat an innocent predator. It would eat an animal.

And thus the hunter brought down a deer. To it, animals ranked up there with the intelligant species of the world. But intelligance could feel emotion, could achieve deeds in ways animals could not. Thus if food was necessary, the hunter would never kill an innocent member of a sentient species.


	2. Observation, Xenomorph

I do not own Predator vs. Alien

I do own the species of the little hunter, and her herself.

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Chapter Two

The Perfect Cameleon

The Little Hunter was a perfect chameleon. As it watched the Predator below it bend down, sifting its hand across the ground and picking up small shards of bone, the hunter was, to the Predator's eyes, no more then the scenery. It is well known that the Yautja see only in infrared- they see only heat unless they were to change their masks to view a different specter. Because of this the Little Hunter also regulated her heat, mimicking its surroundings on the heat spectrum as well as the visible light.

This Yautja was intelligent. With him, he had a type of motion radar, aptly tuned to pick up even the tiniest movements around him.

Unfortunately for this Yautja, this didn't exactly help. Not only was the little hunter neither moving nor breathing, but it also passed the radar waves right through its body as easily as it passed light and heat. And again, the little hunter was invisible to all eyes.

The Yautja stood. He was intelligent, having realized that nothing but the jawbone was there, so it must have been planted. Now, after his second day of searching, his brilliantly keen eyes and trained use of his different lenses had allowed him to locate the real 'scene of the crime'. Slowly the little hunter calmed its own heart, its body going still as all motor functions ceased. Like a gargoyle having turned to stone, and like a puff of air impregnable to radar, heat, and sight all at the same time, she waited, perfectly and entirely still. The Yautja stood slowly, cocking his head to the side and listening intently. He heard nothing. Bones rattled gently from around his throat, chest, waist and hair as he moved to a tree and leapt into it, perching with ease upon the branch. Then, deftly, he pounced into another tree, making his way back toward the clan.

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The Psionic of Deed, Thought, and Heart

The little hunter watched him go silently. The creature did not want war. It was hungry, and it hunted the evil rather then the innocent animals, but it was not a creature of war. It debated over killing this Predator... but it was intrigued... He walked with a gentle respect for nature and searched with a keen, animalistic eye. Never once had he hunted a sentient species... though he was entitled to visit earth, and he might do so soon, he was a hunter of the wild by nature.

Through his mind the hunter had seen his kills. All were animals, all done without cruelty or taunting. And all that were edible he had feasted upon afterward. No, he was not one to be killed. There was still a soul locked within his pitiless shell.

So now the little hunter need only wait for the coming hunt, and the reversal in the role of predator and prey. For hunters took down Predator and prey alike. Yautja and animal alike.

But it was hungry.

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The Paladin of War

Thick gores opened in the Xenomorph's shoulders. It screamed, confused, rearing up on all four legs. As it did so 8 massive slashed opened up in its chest. It shrieked to the sky, lashing its tail madly. And then the scorpion tail slammed into the top of its head, thudding all the way into the bone, till the tip stuck out the other side. Acid coated the stinger as it ripped out of the creature's brain and let it collapse to the ground. Then, coated in the monster's acid the faint outlines of the little creature appeared, tearing at the head of the Xenomorph, engulfing it's brain matter and lapping up the acid with glee. Its face was childish and smooth, almost beautiful, it's eyes two delicate, slanted, swirling orbs. Its hair was, in truth, a mane of feathers, cascading around its shoulders and upper back. The skin of the little hunter was covered in soft, skin like feathers, the lips made of soft scales.

The lips parted, revealing fangs and knives like baleen. And with a mouth like a shark or meat grinder, it tore with a ravenous, constant pace into its food, swallow massive chunks whole. The tail flitted behind it, moving in bug-like, awkward motions. Rather then being smooth and mobile like a snake tail, ridged like a scorpion tail, delicate like a lemur tail or whip-like like an iguana tail, the little hunter's tail formed in segments. Each one of these powerful vertebrae-like segments could be folded in a 180-degree turn in any direction. For those not skilled in math, the entire segment could fold over on the segment behind it, like a Jacob's ladder. This meant that it moved in a robotic but smooth fashion, allowing the tail to twist into almost any shape or path to reach its prey.

When the acid stopped pumping from the creature's body, and what was not lapped up had lost it's potency, the little hunter gripped the Xenomorph by the tail with it's powerful jaws, yanked the creature onto it's back, and jumped up into the trees, carrying its burden effortlessly to be eaten in solitude.

The little hunter did not like Xenomorphs. They were viruses, and they killed- not like animals- but like diseases. The little hunter did not mind even its wildest dreams if the predators killed a Xenomorph with all the madness and hatred in the world.

It did, however, have a problem with them raising alien Queens


	3. War was fruitful, Mercy

I do not own Predator vs. Alien

I do own the species of the little hunter, and her herself.

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Chapter Three

Hunter

The War was fruitful. With the knowledge that something in the forest was utterly decimating warriors, the predators did not do the human thing to do. They did not bomb the forest. They did not shriek like ninnies and run away. They did not run in guns blazing.

They did the predator thing to do. And the predator thing to do was to hear of a challenge and go out to meet it. The predator thing to do also required a hunter suitable to such a challenge. A hunter for such a challenge generally had a mind that blared loudly "ALL YOU CAN EAT BUFFET!" to the little hunter.

Thoroughly gorged on the carcasses of two of its trackers it slept silently on a sunbathing rock, its skin once more that luxurious tan and pale bluish mix. Like a lioness content with the hunt it sunbathed. And like a falcon, it woke at the first hint of danger.

Far in the distance. A Xenomorph. The monster, tail bared and ready, waited innocently in the highest branches. Below were several youths on their Kainde Amedha Chiva- the Xenomorph test. They were there to hunt the Xenomorphs to prove they were hunters, and to mark themselves with the acid blood. Many of them moved with silent predator grace. A few were noisy, where they were excited or irritated or simply ungraceful.

And thus, they would probably die first. The Kainde Amedha Chiva was not meant to be an easy trial. Only a hunter would survive and come home victorious.

The little Hunter's hunger was sated. It scanned the area around it for a long, long time. Then it slowly crept off its rock, slinking through the tall grass. Now it was time to sate curiosity. It reached the forest and went into a full-blown run, nimbly dodging through branches and bramble, its wings spreading a foot or so at various intervals to help it glide over a particularly hampering and elongated obstacle. In moments it was there, perched nimbly on a branch, something between a feline and an eagle- a griffon perhaps- watching the scene below it with avid interest.

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Observer

For all the fact that it was the mightiest of the skilled, in the art of the hunt, it was an extremely curious being. And now it watched the young Yautja move wearily across the ground, trying not to make sound. It's eager, and perhaps just slightly afraid, jerking movements caused twigs to snap and leaves to rustle. And aside from all that the Xenomorph could see him. It was watching him even now, lowering its body into position, its tail slowly sliding downwards.

The tail tensed, the creature ready. And just as it jerked its deadly tail forward the predator spun. His spear slammed into the side of the tail to knock it off course, his magnificent strength just overcoming the Xenomorph's overwhelming power. The tail blade grazed his shoulder armor and went askew. He turned the spear, plunging it up into the massive monster and dragging it downwards.

Acid spewed around him, just missing the clawed hands that gripped the spear. And he'd just nicked the creature's lower abdomen. The tail retracted as the creature jumped to the ground behind him, whipping its tail at him. He spun again, just countering it. With a swipe of it's wrist blades the tail was torn off, the tip falling to the ground with a thud.

This, however, turned out not to be a good idea. In most animals subtle attacks and goading weakened the animal, draining its strength slowly. In a Xenomorph, blood ran acidic. It whipped its tail, spewing acid over his facemask and chest armor. Alarmed, the predator let out a surprised barking growl, dropping his spear and ripping the helmet and armor from his body. Dropping both to the ground.

A mistake. The Xenomorph charged, pouncing on the defenseless predator and slamming him to the ground. His wrist blades sank into its sides where the acid would spew outwards and not drip on him, but this, unfortunately, had no effect. The monster's jaws parted, black lips peeling back as its shimmering teeth spread wide.

The poor young predator's eyes widened in utmost regret and self-targeted rage at the realization of what was going to happen. The inner mouth contracted and then spit forward.

It thudded hard into the creature's domed scull. No queen dominated this area. This warrior was a renegade; cut off from the rest of it's kind both by space and by communication blocks. And thus, there was no reason to call a face hugger.

The forehead cracked and puckered, florescent blood coating the predator's face and the monster's. His body tensed, paralyzed by the sudden deadly blow to the nervous system, his eyes held open wide in death.

The mouth didn't slip entirely into the skull.

The forehead cracked and puckered, acid blood coating the alien's face and the little hunter's. Its body tensed, paralyzed by the sudden deadly blow to the nervous system, its mouth still opened, tongue extended. Brutally it was torn from the carcass of the predator and thrown to the side.

The acid, like all other substances, ran quickly off the little hunter's face feathers, leaving no real indication of what its face looked like this time. It landed on the ground, looking at the dead predator, thinking and waiting. Then, slowly, like something emerging from a cave, uncertain, into the light, it crawled forward. Nimble, supple fingers gripped onto what was left of the predator's armor and it hopped nimbly onto the predator's chest, examining what was left of it's head and brain matter (the fluid of which was currently dripping on the ground from the open wound). Then, slowly, it lowered its head.

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Healer

And rather then eating the unfortunate alien, it started secreting something from its mouth, slipping into the wound. Its whole body expanded, like a dragon ready to breath fire, and then gave a powerful contraction as it spewed up a blue-green shimmering fluid into the wound in the predator's skull. The tail manipulated perfectly into position over the scull and lowered, shooting a high power volt into the creature's scull.

The Yautja gasped, shaking and twitching, it's whole body convulsing, as if in a seizure. The little hunter completed it seal of the wound almost instantaneously and then jumped from the poor predator, stepping away to observe the results, whether they be positive or negative.

After a moment the Yautja went limp, breathing weakly and clutching its forehead, feeling the slick goo that slowly converted to bone, muscle, and skin (and below that, brain). His eyes widened, whirling with astonishment and pain. And bewilderment. One could not expect a creature hit that hard in the head to not retain some cellular damage. In this case, his motor functions seemed to be rewriting what was lost and healing what was damaged. It was only his memory that was irreplaceable. And all that died of that was the battle.

He had no idea, what so ever, how he had gotten from walking in the forest to lying on the ground, coated in his own blood, with a massive wound regenerating in his skull. After a long time of recuperating and recollecting his thoughts in silence, the predator stood, walking over to the Xenomorph corpse and staring down at it. Did he do that? No, no. He shook his head. That blow in its scull was far different then what his spear could do. His spear! Where was it? His wrist blades were gone from the acid they had endured, but his spear was resistant- ah... there... He moved over to it, kneeling down and picking it up, retracting the weapon. And then he blinked, looking at ruins written in acid along the edge of the handle. They were in his language. And they read quite simply: "H'chak: Nan-ku." Mercy:Life. His eyes widened as he looked around uncertainly, trying to understand what happened.

No answers came to him. Nothing was there but the foliage, which moved gently in the wind.


	4. Bad Blood or Just Crazy

I do not own Predator vs. Alien

I do own the species of the little hunter, and her herself.

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Chapter Four

An Interesting Mindset

The little hunter regarded the Yautja. He was asleep, nestled in the corner of his cave, his fire having long simmered to nothing. His spear was at its full length, cradled in his arms as if he suffered from paranoia, like a child clutching a stuffed animal for comfort. His mask and armor were also still on, testifying to his constant precautions.

The hunter crept closer, its mind moving silently into his.

It was chaotic. Whirls of anger, pain, confusion, compassion- blasting throughout his mind. Half memories, half beliefs... and a resulting, frustrated anger.

Closer, curious. Deeper in his mind were some clearer memories. Xenomorphs Hatred. Humans... their cases were more unique on an individual basis. The hunter sensed betrayal and honor, both in his memories of them. Uncertain, tolerant regard. The skulls that he had lined so artistically along one wall? Trophies. Their origin had long since been melded together into a combination of betrayal and cowardice. One thing was for sure- he might be crazy, but he was no murderer.

Deeper into his thoughts

The little hunter turned after a moment, walking up to his trophies and plucking several skulls from his collection. These had been cowards, not creatures of evil. Thus the hunter found no reason to retain their trophies; it wasn't like they'd been difficult kills either. There were a few animals he had hunted for sport- though he had done it as a hunter, not as a tormentor- and the little hunter took those as well. Then, exiting the cave, it quietly tore apart the sculls and tossed them to various places out in the foliage.

The little hunter then returned, sitting down several yards away from the hunter and regarding him, thinking back on where she had encountered this strange being...

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An Interesting Fighter

- The little hunter circled the burning foliage, its eyes flaming as it watched several predators begin... burning it... Why they were doing this wasn't apparent. They just seemed to be aimlessly burning, turning the trees into giant flaming torches. Why? The creatures eyes whirled momentarily before settling down to normal for the purpose of hiding. It crept through the burning foliage, moving behind one of the Yautja working a flamethrower, the creature's tail creeping forward...

And then a spear suddenly fired from the foliage, thudding into one of the predators and going straight through it, into the tank for the flamethrower, and causing it to explode. It went down in a flaming roar.

Surprised, the little hunter lifted its head. Immediately it saw the silhouette of a single attacking Yautja, wrist blades cutting into the other predators. Some of the attacked Yautja dropped their flamethrowers and tanks, drawing spears. None of them cloaked; as they only saw heat it would have been futile. But apparently with all the flames around them, they were near invisible to one another.

The attacked Yautja flailed aimlessly. Surprisingly, the attacking Predator did not. Those left with flamethrowers were brutally taken down with throwing spears; the deadly aim a phenomenon in all this heat.

The little hunter crept closer, slinking over the ground and regarding the battle, watching the lone predator easily sneak up on and decapitate the others. Intrigued as to why predator was fighting predator, the hunter did nothing, only watched.

When the six flamethrower-Yautja were dead the lone predator turned, looking around at the forest. His armor was black and his skin a darker brown color as apposed to tan or green. His gaze swept back and forward as he examined the area for any surviving Yautja, and then he silently went to work pulling over all the flaming trees, so that the fire could not reach the surrounding trees. This done he waited, watching them burn out, and then turned, examining the bodies of the dead Yautja for anything useful. He retrieved this metal throwing spears and relieved them of some of their armor.

Still unfailingly curious, the little creature moved along with the predator. Though staying far out of range, it desired to remain close enough to observe unhindered. Killing and not eating seemed a waste to the little hunter... but he had put out the fires in the forest... and the little hunter would never desire to eat another of it's own species, that would be cannibalism, so it could excuse this. After all, in a war people generally didn't eat their adversaries. This wasn't just a hunt for sport; he hadn't taken any trophies. Slowly, cautiously, the hunter moved closer to this new adversary, its eyes fixed on the predator. For all a person beside it could tell, it wasn't even breathing

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An Interesting Carefullness

A bleep went off in the predator's helmet, warning him that something was nearby. How it did this was unknown, but the hunter immediately froze, lying low to the ground. The predator spun, disk in one hand and spear in the other, searching for the thing that had triggered his sensors. He searched around, even going through certain lenses to detect Xenomorphs, but to his eyes, there was nothing there...

The little hunter didn't move or spasm a muscle, didn't twitch in the tiniest fraction of a measurement. It must have been a light padding on the ground, like a tremor, that had woken the sensor. Effective. The hunter would have to take precautions against this occurring again.

The predator scanned the forest a moment more and then slid its disk back to its former location, lifting his hand and unclasping his mask. Slowly he pulled it off, exposing his 'interesting' facial features. He crouched down, sniffing the air, searching for anything...

An indent in the grass? He set down his spear and then whipped out his disk again, firing at the location. The little hunter smiled, its eyes moving as it looked over at the little planted tracks it had made- for a reason. The disk sailed harmless over the tracks, inches from the little hunter's body and shot back to the predators hand. He gripped the disk, clicking lightly. But, upon seeing nothing, he replaced his mask and stood, heading out into the forest. As he moved the hunter did as well.

Lowering weight is fairly impossible. It would require the ability to become partially ethereal, which out little hunter couldn't do. Or, at least, couldn't do yet. So it crawled carefully, setting each limb down with smooth grace, and succeeded in not setting off the sensor again, listening to the predator idly wonder if he was getting to old.

Considering how fit, forest-wise, and intelligent this predator seemed to be (even if he was a badblood or just crazy), this made the little hunter smile with amusement.-

The little hunter hadn't wanted to enter the cave at first. It didn't like caves. Unless there was a massive supply of stalactites or stalagmites, there was no real cover. Predators saw in heat, and since there was a lack of cover it would have to move slowly to regulate the proper heat waves through it at all times. But it had. And now here it was, stretching out on its stomach and lying its head on its forearms.

Tomorrow would be interesting.

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Reviews and Such

For anyone who reads this: I am generally opposed to responding to reviews, as I feel they take up unnecessary space. However, I would like to post these questions/statements and my replies so that I can settle the questions of anyone else out there who desires answers

-From: R.C.R.M

There is no way this hunter could possibly exist. For one thing if it doesn't every excrete any waste every it wouldn't need to eat except maybe once. Unless it is constantly growing larger indefinitely. Another thing, if it light and all energy just passed through it, it wouldn't exist. And finally if this creature does exist it would have to be divinely created and therefore wouldn't have to eat anyway. That is all I have to say.

A: I could (And did) compose a 4 page rant to submit to this fella. And then I realized something amazing O.O I didn't have to prove a dang thing cause it's not like I could change his mind! I know, isn't it astounding!? At any rate, I do believe that there are many reasons that this creature could exist. And em, just as a side note, Humans were divinly created, and we have to eat :P Well, it's true! Also, urine starts off in the body as ammonia, which can be used as a weapon. I'm sure you wouldn't be too happy if you got ammonia injected into your bloodstream. And at any rate, you're setting limits on fantasy. That's like saying all dragons have to be green and steal women for no apparent reason.

My final defense is that I do have some various explanations for why my hunter can do some things, but it would take too long to explain some, and others would ruin the story. I'm not gonna sit here and prove realism to you, just read the story and either like it or dont like it. Don't dissect it before the whole thing is written.

-From: Manquare

Extremely cool - wonderful descriptions. Your little hunter is very intriguing - have you drawn any pictures of it?

-From: Spacefan

All you can eat buffet! LOL!

Very good chappie--this hunter is a very complicated creature. One minute ravenously eating experienced Predators--the next, rescuing and healing an inexperienced Predator. A griffon-like creature, hm. I wonder if anyone out there could sketch the little hunter.

A: Yes, I have drawn pictures of it, but due to people's tendency to steal artwork, I'm a little opposed to posting it. However, as long as I'm given credit for the creation of it's species and you don't like... ya know, try to sell the work or something, i wouldn't mind if other people drew the little hunter. My monster! Snatches and glares at everyone Go make your own! But seriously, I'd be delighted to see what other people see my little hunter as. Just wait for the next chapter cause I'll describe it more in that one.


	5. Resemblance to Yoda

I do not own Predator vs. Alien

I do own the species of the little hunter, and her herself.

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Chapter Five

First Light

At first light it stirred, its eyes opening, watching him as he slowly shifted into consciousness. He moved, his eyes opening beneath his mask, and he looked around. His eyes drifted to his trophies and he blinked, eyeing them. One might wonder how he would so quickly notice several missing, but wouldn't an expert notice a single missing display in his museum? A man with a collection notice a single missing specimen? Would they not look at these collections often, fondly?

He stood, walking over to the trophies and moving through them. His mind raced with the realization that some were gone. Alarm, anger, frustration. He growled, turning, his eyes searching madly around the room.

With regulated body heat, the creature was immune to his piercing gaze, and he roared darkly at the loss of his trophies, hands clenching and unclenching. He closed his eyes, snarling, and then he whipped around, stalking up to the water pool and 'plopping' down. He began cupping some water in his massive hands and spooning it to his mouth. He repeated this process and then stopped, blinking. There, at the edge of the water, was a small bubble of air, submerged in the water.

To put this simply, there was a bowl of empty space in the water. The water just ended, as if coming up against a solid surface. But all that was there was air. His hands parted, the water pouring back into the pool in several rivulets, as he stared silently at the spot a moment. Then he reached forward to touch it, to figure out what it was, for there was no heat there and no signature of a fellow predator.

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First Encounter

His hand came into contact with something that felt... like air, only wrong... It was feathery... and solid... He jerked his hand back and inch and then reached forward again, brushing against the soft surface and feeling downwards. There, at the bottom. Long, nimble fingers, equipped with slender, powerful talons. The hand moved, lightning fast, closing over his wrist. He growled on impulse, pulling back. His arm didn't move, the power holding it there astounding. His eyes snapped to his arm and he yanked backwards, feet jamming into the dirt.

Nothing. Not a budge. Yet he could tell that whatever was holding him was not heavy. How the hell was it holding him in place like that? It was like it was imbedded several feet into the ground! He blinked, looking in the direction of the invisible thing with silence. There was a pause... and then his spear whipped forward- to be stopped short with a jar to his arm, his spear seeming stuck in midair.

A low, unpleased growl sounded from before him. And 5, thick gashes ripped open in his mask, the force throwing him backwards into the ground. His cheek cracked hard against the side of his mask and he growled loudly, jumping to a squat and feeling over the gashes in the metal. His visors changed repeatedly... but... there was nothing, NOTHING, there...

Suddenly- There, in his normal vision, something quickly materialized. The ball of heat quickly took shape, forming in a small, catlike creature in a crouching position in front of him, its hands on the ground, gazing up at him.

He just stared. This thing had the power to catch HIS blows, push against HIS strength, tear open HIS mask, and throw HIM backwards!? He was a Yautja! And this... this THING was no more then a childish being, just shy of five feet! He DOUBLED its height and QUADRUPLED its mass!!!

It just looked up at him curiously, like a pup, a child. Black streaks whirled through its white eyes, suggesting a white 'pupil' where none was visible. And as he thought these things to himself, staring down at the tiny creature, its eyes started whirling faster, and it growled, it's pointed nose, lips, and brows wrinkling in aggression. Ears like fins of feathers laid back in its feathered mane.

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First Fight

And then, a thought hit him. This must have been what stole his trophies. Hatred blinding reason, and eyes blinding mind, he roared his challenge.

In roughly 6 seconds, he was pinned 6 feet off the ground by the tip of a scorpion tail. The tip had split in half, two instants before it collided with his neck, instead pinning him by the throat to the wall, half choking him to death. The creature landed on the wall beside him, crawled right up to the thick tip of it's tail, and lifted a hand. It unclipped his masked and pulled it off, sticking its face inches from his own.

Lips tightened into a sharp beak, jaws spreading to reveal 4 massive steak-knife fangs, frontal incisors as sharp as a razor, and hundreds upon hundreds of shark-like teeth, row upon row.

It's contracted lightly, breathing it, and then roared, its eyes glowing red with heat in his vision.

Rule #1: Things are NEVER what they seem. He didn't budge, didn't return the challenge, and didn't try to stab it with the spear he held. In fact, the spear retracted with a 'click'. This seemed to satisfy the creature, for it snorted and dropped him with a thud. He slipped quickly to his knees, holding his throat, rubbing away the welts. The creature jumped down, the scorpion tail going straight to his throat. Immediately he turned his head to the side, tilted it, and lowered his eyes, effectively baring his throat and averting his gaze. The sign of submission. This little creature wasn't prey or equal. It was not a Yautja, but it was, in the supreme, his better. He could admit when he was lacking.

The tail stopped pressing threatening and instead cuffed his cheek lightly, before pulling back. A gesture of acceptance?


	6. JudgementsFlawsPredjudice

I do not own Predator vs. Alien

I do own the species of the little hunter, and her herself.

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Thief

The little hunter regarded the Yautja silently, watching him turn his head toward it, slowly, waiting to see if there would be a reprimand. Upon finding none, he lifted his eyes, studying the creature before him. Without his mask all he saw were 3D red and black shapes. The creature had a heart shaped face, huge eyes, and soft, smooth, feathered skin. It's ears were fangs of feathers and its hair a feathery mane. It had no gender-related characteristics or other waste units, arising the question of how it bred or got rid of waste.

Perhaps it was the only member of it's kind? A scientific mutation? The creature growled and he blinked, lowering his eyes quickly. What had made it growl...? It cuffed his cheek gently with the tail and then turned, walking over to the storage area. It deftly pushed the heavy rock that covered the storage pit over to the side and reached in with a long, thin forward.

Inside was a pack of food and it picked this pack up, setting it on the ground. The creature examined it for a moment and then sat down, its tail curled loosely around itself as it held the pack with its feet. Then it opened the top with its hands, reaching in and plucking out a huge chunk of meat. It lifted the food to its mouth, tearing into it and swallowing thick chunks whole.

The Predator's eyes flamed and he stood up, the creature growled but he came straight up to it, clicking angrily. Instantaneously, she was up on all fours, long wings spread out. Each wing had an extra arm segment at the end of the wing, and rather than feathers it sported long, blade-like scales.

Judging by the creature's power and grace, he would bet they could hack him open easily. His rage calmed a bit, leaving some room for reason. He had bared his throat to this creature and acknowledged it as his superior. He should not let his anger overcome him so easily. He did not advance... but he did not retreat either.

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Telepath

The little Hunter's eyes flamed and he growled in return. That was HIS food! What right had this... THING to take his food!? Spoiled, rotten, childish-. He paused, examining her again. He would let an elder do as it wished. But this was unreasonable behavior on this creature's part! This food was NOT its! The hunter spread its fangs, eyes whirling.

"You can beat me in combat, but you are just being SPOILED, creature." IT lowered its wings a bit, tilting its head to the side, curiously. Then it engulfed the rest of the meat in its hands and then threw the pack in the hole, covering it, and promptly turned away from him as if he were a worm threatening a dragon.

Arrogant, selfish, supercilious creature!!!

The little creature whipped around and snarled at him, and he blinked, idly wondering, 'Can she hear me?' The creature gave what resembled a humanoid grin and then slipped into the water, splashing around happily. He arched an eyebrow at this and then looked down at his fire pit. Cooked meat tasted better to him... An opinion that differed from the normal member of his race... Slowly he knelt down, uncovering the warm embers and slowly starting a fire. When the first waves of heat were emerging from the fire, the creature came up out of the water and stretched itself out next to the roaring flames.

He snorted lightly, bitterly pulling his food out and starting to cook it. Deep in thought, he wondered why it had taken his trophies? Was it just a greedy, powerful thief? A sharp grunt reinforced his growing belief... that this thing could hear his insults... a telepath...?

--------------------------------

Master

He tested the meat on the spit and then, finding it cooked as he liked it, he pulled the spit off the fire, biting at the meat. Suddenly a massive chunk of meat was torn from the spit. He twisted his head to see the little creature devouring the meat.

He couldn't take it. The devil takes his food, steals his sculls, treats him like an animal, and threatens HIM! Now it steals the food HE hunted and cooked for HIMSELF? He let out a roar of frustration and anger, his wrist blades extending, as he hacked at the loathsome creature.

He made a mistake. For all its size, arrogance, and thievery, it was ten hundred times the combatant that he was. With out even vanishing, it grabbed one of his arms, twisting it and breaking his wrist with ease. Powerful talons caught the second hand, slitting into the powerful alloy of the wrist blades a few millimeters. He only had a millisecond to wish he had more limbs to fight with before the tail blasted him bodily into a wall. His eyes went wide in pain and surprise, as but a second later, the tip hit again, puncturing deep into his body. He looked down to see the thick tail end thrust through his abdomen, his green blood just starting to spill over it.


	7. Life Libery Pursuit of Happiness whole d...

I do not own Predator vs. Alien

I do own the species of the little hunter, and her herself.

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    Chapter 7

Moment of Appology

When he woke up the pain was gone. his eyes fluttered open and he weakly examined his surroundings, mandibles twitching lightly. There was a little padding sound next to him and the small creature came into his view. His face contorted in anger, mandibles clicking in an unsupported threat or warning. But the small creature just moved its tail close to his face. He tensed momentairly before he realized something was balanced on it's tail...

His mask being off, he could see nothing but red and black swirls that represented depth (Or so it looks like to this author.) his nose, however, supplied the unmarred identity of what he saw. Vegetables, heated fruit, and various types of meat impaled on a thin spit.

he blinked in surprized, looking at the creature distrustfully. Was this an... appology of sorts...? Then, slowly, he reached forward and took the spit, bringing it toward him. The creature just retracted its tail and sat down, watching him innocently. He snorted, grumbling, but began tugging the food off the spit with this mandibles.

Being partial to cooked food, as we have said, he continued eating. When he had finished, it offered him another spit of meat, and so the process continued until he was full.

When that point came, surpizingly enough, the creature did not offer him more food, as if it knew...

At last he came to full conformation that, at least some of the time, this... thing... could view his mind.

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Moment of Insanity

It looked down at him quite innocently, curious in expression. He snorted at this, mandibles crinkling, and tightening. Then he felt down toward where he knew there would at least be a scar or something from the thick wound it had caused.

But there was... nothing... He blinked, looking down at himself, and feeling over his belly. nothing, not a mark. His eyes widened again as he looked down at himself. That couldn't have been a dream! That... pain... It was so real... He nearly choked on the realization that maybe he WAS crazy. Maybe he had finally crossed the line, gone mad...

If that was the truth, he'd rather be dead.

But no, there was his blood, staining the ground and wall next to him. But what if that wasn't real? He could pick some up and flick it at the theif-creature and see if it dodged or if the blood hit it... But maybe it's dodge would be unreal too, a hallucination? What if the creature wasn't REAL? What if it was just some side product of skitzophrenia or mad hallucinations? The more he swelled on it, the worse it became. After all, what other explanation was there for something THAT small that could overpower HIM?

What if all this wasn't real? What if he was some sickly dying creature in a coma somewhere, or all this was an insane dream?

He started breathing faster, hyperventilating. his vision was fogging as he started shaking with every breath. The Little Hunter, alarmed, reached forward, gently laying a hand over his taloned one, the one currently gripping his abdomen. He practically convulsed, turning his head to look at it. Gently it ran a talon over his hand, and he shivered as a line of green blood appeared, oozing down his hand. It lowered its head, its lips parting, blue fluid dripping from its mouth into the wound. Spot by spot, the pain faded, and when he calmed and lifted his hand to examine it, the last remaining indications of the wound faded before his eyes. He looked back at the theif-creature, still a little unnerved, but no longer breathing so rapidly.

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Moment of Rest.

Poor creature. He didn't even trust his own mind. That must have been the real, subconcious reason for why he lived alone, and why he suffered from paranoia. The theif-creature moved, comming up beside his face and laying down perpendicular to him., reaching forward and straking gently over the crown of his head.

He quivvered violently, but slowly relaxed, his eyes closing. He couldn't help this reaction... The Predator needed the... perhaps, 'reassurance' is the right word. He gave a sigh and his body stopped tensing. And the Yautja gave into whatever fate and truth that lay before him, his manicing subsiding.

Its talons ran gently over his forehead and the side of his cheek, strangely soft and tender. He breathed out, letting his shoulders droop, his muscles relax. So what if he was crazy? Nothing he could do about it.

After a long time his weakened mind relaxed as well, and he slipped into Slumber.

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Reviews and Such

Dont worry. I wont kill the pred. YET. BWAHAHAHAAH BWAHAHAHAHA HOOOHWAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!

.... Now that that's over with...

This chap was a bit short but the next one's already written, just have to transfer it to my comp.


	8. Different Races Different Ideals

I do not own Predator vs. Alien

I do own the species of the little hunter, and her herself.

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Chapter 8

Interesting Face

The little hunter supposed that, to a human, this creature's face would be quite ugly. His eyelids were not smooth, but lined, and his eyes so sunken back in dark colored sockets that they looked like the eyes of a dead thing. He had no nose, just two slitted nostrils that flared slightly as it breathed. His mandibles were tipped with grayish yellow tusks. In his mouth were the same colored, jagged, uneven teeth. The soft red tissue normally found on the inside of the mouth was exposed and easily visible, as if it were bared to the muscle.

His cheeks were not connected to his jaws, flaring out instead if the mandibles were spread. His domed forehead was remotely pretty, as it was amphibious or reptilian in design, yellow and greenish with speckles of darker colors around edges. Also, it did not help his appearance that his body glistened like he was an amphibian, and thus it was possibly slimy. The occasional tiny, tentacle-like hair sprouted over the crown of his head.

To the little hunger, however, it was extremely interesting. As the Yautja slipped into slumber, she felt tenderly over his face. Unendingly curious its fingers skimmed over his mandibles and eyes, tracing his face gently. It was, in a strange way, beautiful. A marvel of evolution. The little hunter patted the Yautja gently on, at the same time, the dreadlocks and side of the head. Then it ran off to hunt.

The little hunter had decided that the Predator was right. It had been unfair, taking his food. This had probably been thievery in his eyes, for Humans and Yautja had different ideals then the hunter's people, and the little creature should have taken that into account. Therefore, it had left all the Yautja's food for the Yautja, and went out to find food for itself.

And the Yautja carcasses left in the forest made a fine meal.

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Interesting Meal

The Predator woke to the sweet smell of cooking meat. It roused him more than raw, as we have said, for he always preferred it heated. He turned his head to see the fire roaring and warm, two individual spits being slowly turned, suspended above the flames, by the little thief-creature.

Both masses of meat were of awesome quantity, rich with flavor and juice, a sizzling testimony to the little creatures ability to take down near anything. One of the creatures he recognized as a massive deadly herbivore. The other.... was the one thing that kept his stomach from driving him over to the fire.

For one of the sets of meat was not brown and red. It was dark and light green. He turned his head, looking at the white creature, to discover a set of armor and mask (as well as a collection of bones) behind it. The symbol was not the same as those he'd killed earlier. The thief-creature had hunted a full flooded warrior, and was currently roasting him over a fire. For the first time, a Yautja was subjected to what humans felt like upon seeing skinned bodies hung from trees.

---------------------------------

Interesting Honor

He shrank back a bit, starting. Yautja never hunted Yautja. That was dishonorable. Ture, he FOUGHT Yautja, but that was for a different reason (Even if he was still probably viewed as a BadBlood by his people). But if prey could beat a Yautja, they were generally allowed to live, to further the line of good prey. But this was not prey. This was a hunter. A hunter far above 'equal' with him or his people. Such a being had never been encountered before, and he did not know how to deal with it.

And then he wondered why it had spared HIM...

He remembered a young male Pyode Amedha, an Ooman, he had encountered on a hunt. The Human had been brave, honorable, and –something unusual among Yautja- merciful. The Predator had thought first to hunt this human, as he was an expert fighter... but the man's honor had surprised the Predator. Coupled with the fact that they had been forced together in a fight against Xenomorphs, the Predator had decided to let the Human follow him, so that they could guard one another. He had treated the male almost as an equal, and had felt him forbidden pray, too Yautja and honorable to be hunted

Perhaps he, himself, displayed qualities that the little hunter creature liked, measured up well to its standards, and that was why it was staying near him... and why it had not killed him. The thief-creature had proven itself to be intelligent. Perhaps it had a code of warped honor that Yautja did not always meet...

He wondered at that. For on all accounts, he was rather sure he was not quite sane.


	9. We meet The Feral Hunter

The little hunter looked at him, curious. Though she could understand him perfectly, she was only just beginning to project her own thoughts, and they were quite weak. Still, he could make out the word-Why-

-Because he's an elder- he practically yelled. He was lucky she wasn't human, or she'd've asked why she couldn't kill old people. As it was, 'elder' was a thing that he thought of with great respect, so she easily recognized what 'elder' meant- a master fighter.

-I could defeat him easily.-

-But- but- you can't kill him! He's a leader of my people! An elite! Revered by all lesser then him-

-Oh. Is he the reason predator's are so mean- The predator groaned mentally, slapping a hand to his forehead. Oh great, he'd just made her want to kill the elder more. Then he came up with an idea. He hated the thought of pleading but... something about killing an elder still hit a sensitive vibe in his sense of right and wrong.

-Please, don't kill him. He's important to my people... I still hold the elder's in such high esteem...- She was silent a moment, regarding the elder the way she did all Yautja. Jauk'cha had come to the conclusion that she had an easy time reading thoughts. All thoughts. As long as she was concentrating on the task of reading them. So she read all a Yautja's thoughts, pondered a moment, and if there was doubt in her mind she'd let them live. If not, she'd pick them to hunt. This time she took a bit longer to decide, and Jauk'cha was silent as a fellow predator teetered between life and death.

-He is good- she pronounced at last. -At least, as good as a Predator can be in the environment they are raised in. He does not hunt maliciously.- Jauk'cha sighed inwardly. That aided his personal morals and values as well as saved the elder. He'd learned that the surplus of kills that the little hunter made was an illusion. She knew how to draw out the darkest egomaniacs of the predator race- that was why she had such a surplus of food. She was not of the opinion that the entire predator race needed to die horrible cruel deaths. And she was starting to become a bit more lenient the longer she stayed with Jauk'cha and learned exactly how predator mind-structure worked.

Then Jauk'cha twitched, rubbing his skin irritably. She'd made him bathe so many times before she let him out of the cave to hunt, his skin was starting to peel. Apparently she wanted to make sure his scent didn't give off her position. -So, what are you going to hunt- He inquired, now that her elder hunting plan was foiled. The Elder, on the other hand, starting to pick up on the subtle noises Jauk'cha was making, turned to look in their general direction. Instantly Jauk'cha went still as the elder eyed their direction. Then he seized a tree, and began to pull himself up high into the branches. This did not please the little hunter at all, and Jauk'cha received the telepathic equivalent of a glare.

Jauk'cha watched, motionless, as the Elder crept toward their position, cloaking. The Elder's spear shifted away some branches silently, but the little hunter was already invisible and creeping away from it. Jauk'cha remained perfectly still, not daring to breathe, and praying the foliage obscured his heat signature.

Somehow it worked. Jauk'cha was an overwhelmingly skilled hunter, but he wasn't THAT skilled. He could only figure the Elder had recognized the weak scent of a fellow predator, and moved on without a word.

Unfortunately the little hunter was not so instantly pleased. He was bombarded by instructions on how to keep perfectly silent for an entire week. By the time he was done he swore he could climb over dried leaves and no one could hear him. Unfortunately, as this was generally his thinking: "No one could possibly smell me, no one could possibly hear me, no one, no one, no one," he was forced to name the little hunter 'No one.' She was NEVER satisfied, and could ALWAYS hear him.

He grumbled about that. It bothered him to no end. He still had issues with fluffy white cats being able to beat the crap out of him. A Human might equate it to being pwned by a fluffy pink gerbil.

G'tuk sighed, glaring at the ever decreasing amount of steaks. Oh, he could use a steak right now… tender juicy lizard meat, right off the bone… seared on the outside to heat it to a desirable temperature… His mandibles tightened a bit, his brows lifting- the predator equivalent of a grin. The female, the little runt that had been just recently accepted into the training barracks was the last one to receive a steak- and she was sitting right in front of him. Oh, this was too easy. Predator society called for any children who could not even defend their meal from a single adversary, were weak and thus there was no reason to stop the thief. The stronger predator would get the most food- nourishing its strength even more. Who cared if the weaker predator died? It only strengthened the predator bloodlines.

After all, that's the reason the female was here. Everyone knew females couldn't be Hunters. Granted, they were bigger, and stronger, and faster, but they didn't have the hunter/warrior instinct. They were often generals and instructors, but never hunters. And she was a runt on top of it. No, the only reason she was here was to die. No one else wanted her, so she had to be taken into the barracks. The barracks was her death sentence. No female so tiny could possibly outmatch a male in the hunter's game of survival. He reached over, roaring at her and snagging the steak from midair.

Alas, poor G'tuk was not prepared for what happened next. The tiny female, so quiet and reserved, exploded. She shrieked so loud every boy around them looked up to see which of their brethren had made such a profound battle cry. Before their heads were even up, she'd lunged onto the table and dive tackled the boy. She knocked him over his stool onto his back on the earth, and proceeded to hack open his face with her long finger talons, screaming. Every blow he tried to get at her she hacked away. He tried to kick her, throw her off, but she was a mad screaming ball of fury. Many of the boys there stood up, though none of them moved in to help. None of them really wanted to be the next to get hacked up. Controlling her temper after delivering G'tuk 2 successful rakes to the face, 6 to the chest, and many more to the arms, she planted her hands on his shoulders, and roared full blast right in his face.

How such a small, pathetic, half-human female could roar so loud, he'd never know. The female promptly stood up, took her portion of steak back, and then took his, and proceeded to hop back onto the table and into her seat, where she commenced eating. The boy next to her laughed lightly, possibly at G'tuk, but the female was already in a temper-mental mood. She turned on the male next to her, shrieking bloody fury in his face, her fingers splayed and ready to hack up something again. The boy quickly turned his gaze away. He knew he was not anywhere near the fighter G'tuk was. He didn't want identical hacked up marks. The female growled low for a moment, and then turned back to her food, eating like a feral animal.

It was unpleasant to watch the female eat, as her mouth was quite humanoid. She had normal predator mandibles, which covered her unsightly mouth most of the time, but on the inside of the mandibles, skin coverings known as 'lips' covered her teeth. These lips pulled back to expose her teeth, another byproduct from the human blood in her veins. Unlike the sharp teeth that lined a normal predator mouth, she had three sets of teeth, and they were more or less straight and orderly. The front four teeth on each jaw were razor-sharp incisors, used for tearing into meat or snipping off pieces of plant. The next two were long canines for puncturing, and behind that she had molars that curved up on the sides like fangs. As this was not the normal predator mouth set at all, most of the boys avoided looking at her. G'tuk, who was having his wounds burnt shut with blue plaster by a trainer, was too busy screaming his head off to glare at her. Thus, the rest of her meal was finished in peace, and with two pieces of meat, one delicate and the other rough, sitting inside her, she got up and walked to the gym.

The gym was, for lack of a better word, like a Roman arena. The floor was sand and it was large and open, with various training equipment around its sides.

Predators valued speed and skill more than brute strength, but those muscles had to come from somewhere. There was an assortment of weighted objects, mostly balls that could be tossed around or carried while doing something particularly strenuous. There was a rough equivalent of gymnastic bars as well as tree imitations. Hopefully they'd get to go outside soon and get some real experience. The arena was so boring. The female proceeded to go over to the gymnastic bars. She placed her hands on the ground and cart wheeled her feet straight into the air. Then she curled her legs around the bar above her, and proceeded to do vertical sit-ups on the bar, bored. Male youths began to enter the room, most engaging in practice unarmed combat matches. Some ran, others practiced with the weights, and some practiced their tree climbing. Trainers entered, ordering those who were lazy around, making sure order was kept, but mostly advising youths on their battling techniques.

Oh yes… she was bored… Her red eyes closed to slits and she grumbled to herself. She was jerked back to reality as a Trainer delivered a blow to her head, causing her to fall and go flying into a stack of weights. That… hurt…

The female's head throbbed as the Trainer muttered something about 'child-makers' and 'lazy.'

The female was not a rational creature. She was fortunate she was not a weak one either. Her full-fledged tackle was halted by the trainer giving her a massive kick to the stomach. Rather than being winded she latched onto the leg itself, biting into the flesh beneath the armor in a feral way, hacking it up with her claws. His wrist blades hacked down at her but she dodged them, slipping between his legs and ripping open his back.

She ended up spending a week in the infirmary once the whole incident had played out. As a credit to her strength, the trainer was out two days, and was demoted upon the basis that one of his fellows had needed to step in to keep the female from gouging his eyes out, for he'd been humiliatingly unsuccessful in stopping the girl's attacks and punishing her.

As soon as she was free from the infirmary, she was back in the barracks, hissing at anyone who dared get within 10 feet of her. At mealtimes she was the last in, ate quickly, and was out before the trainers could yell at her for being late. Her left arm was still weak, coated with blue healing paste and causing her to nurse it carefully. She waited patiently in this manner until her arm was back to full strength, using only exercises that involved her legs.

The boys saw it as weakness. One injury and the female was spazzing out at anyone who walked by and nursing her army like a pup. What it was, was instinct. At night she moved the arm around in painful positions, slowly getting it accustomed to moving properly again. During the day, she let it recover and heal. After all, if she exercised there was always the chance someone would pick on her, and that her arm would get hurt again.

If that happened, the arm might become permanently shriveled and weak. Everything she did ran on a basis of instinct.

"You," a voice snapped above her. The female predator looked up quickly, red eyes boring into those of the trainer who stood above her. Him. He was the one who had pulled her off the trainer she'd attacked all those weeks ago. She dropped the weighed balls she was carrying in each hand, and had been using to pull her arms back into shape. Her fingers splayed out, fingers slightly curved, the position she assumed when she was ready to put up a fight.

The trainer clicked his mandibles together disapprovingly at her insubordination. "What is your name?" He demanded. The female peered up at him silently and then made a face. His yellow eyes flamed at this, but nothing in his body betrayed his anger. "Your name, female? Or shall I call you something less plesant?"

"Mox," she said, her voice so gravely and growl-tainted that it sounded like a hiss more than any name.

He grumbled to himself. A Human name, it seemed. It was certainly not Yautja. "You enjoy combat, Mox?" She sneered at him, as if asking if he were stupid or something. This time not even his eyes showed anger. He molded his words carefully. "If you want, I can make sure that next time you fight a battle like that, you win." She eyed him distrustfully.

"You pulled me away from him."

"Because it is not proper to fight one's trainer."

"He kicked me in the head." The trainer was silent a moment, phrasing his words.

"He had the right to kick you because of your rank. You did not have the right to hurt him." Mox instantly scowled. "But, if you become a better fighter, if you learn to respect rank, then you can gain a higher rank, so that next time you will be right, and your opponent will be wrong." She mused over this to herself.

"How?"

"I can train you." She glared darkly at him, as if he were a worm trying to instruct a bird on how to fly more effectively.

"How I know you're better than me?" she asked with a slow smile. The trainer lifted a brow, thinking to himself.

"You'll be able to find out without being hospitalized for a week or hacking anything to pieces." Mox eyed him a long moment and then she placed her hands on the ground and stood up.

"Teach me, if you are so great."

She was going to need better manners. If she talked to an elder that way, it was going to get her killed.

"Try some respect first, Unblooded."

"Earn some respect first, Trainer." He looked down at the tiny female, at her miniscule 5'7 frame, eyeing her critically. He had the feeling he was going to regret this whole thing…

Mox, on the other hand, sat back down and proceeded to preen herself. This required the use of her 'tongue,' another human mouth part, and included licking dried blood from her wounds and skin.


	10. Teachers, ScienceHistoryHunting

I own Iamathe. I own Lequian Rehitnue. THEYRE MINE I TELL YA! MINE!

But i don't own anything else.

Jauk'cha yawned lightly from where he was nestled in the branches of a thick forest tree, his feet clinging to the wood. His eyes opening and he looked over to see the little hunter in her usual position. She was curled up around his shoulders; her scorpion tail wrapped around one of his arms.

Jauk'cha had, after slowly beginning to notice that the female gave off no waste material, come to realize one way her body got rid of excess energy she did not immediately need. It was no explanation for how she could be so strong, light, and tiny, but it was a start.

The little hunter was incredibly warm. She radiated heat like a miniature furnace. At first that hadn't made the slightest bit of sense to him. After all, he couldn't SEE her unless she wanted to be seen, and he SAW heat, so why was she always so invisible. However, after noticing that animals who saw in the light spectrum were also ignorant of her presence, he came to the conclusion that something about her could regulate energy- in short, could regulate waves.

(Warning: The following content depicts a half-insane extra-terrestrial trying to come up with scientific reasons for the existence of a fluffy white kitten. Brains may steam afterwards. Warning: I am not omniscient, I am describing the half-insane extra-terrestrial's theories to the best of my ability and scientific knowledge and coupling it with a fantasy element.)

For example, the only times the little hunter ever emitted heat were when she was snuggled up against him- and in that case she only regulated the heat waves towards him- When she wanted to be visible, she regulated heat in all directions.

HOWEVER, since containing such heat and light energy would probably have some effect on her (He wasn't sure what, probably melting or burning or... or… something!), he had come to the conclusion that some sort of divine or multi-dimensional forces were at work. The way he came up with this conclusion was by comparing her extraordinary abilities to such concepts as 'electro-magnetism' or 'strong nuclear forces' before such forces were discovered. These 'divine or multi-dimensional forces' acted to regulate her weight, and heat and light. For example: light and infrared light are wavelengths. That means they were energy that was transferred from place to place. Somehow these 'forces' could alter the path of the light, or they could remove it entirely and 'store' it- as it did with her body heat.

The various poisons and chemicals she pulled into her body for later use were also 'stored' in this other 'dimension.' In short, she was not a purely physical being. Part of her existed on a level, on a dimension, that he could not comprehend.

All in all, the best word he could pick to describe all this was 'magic'. He figured there were scientific explanations behind it, but it hurt his brain analyzing all the possibilities. So, until he could figure out it, he'd just call it 'power' or something like that.

The Little hunter stirred, yawning and displaying her shark teeth. Upon seeing him awake she smiled happily and then her heated eyes whirled in his vision as she eyed him curiously.

-What- Jauk'cha inquired, stretching his legs.

-You are trying to come up with explanations as to why I exist.-

-Yes…-

-Well, first give me explanation as to why you exist. Then give explanation as to why strong and weak nuclear forces, gravity, and electromagnetism exist. Not how they work, why they exist. Then, in detail, tell me where all anti-matter is.- Jauk'cha grunted.

-There a problem with being curious- She laughed lightly, out loud. Her laugh was pleasing. It sounded melodious- a nice contrast with her purrs, hisses, growls, and roars.

-No, not at all.- Like the affectionate cat she was she nuzzled his cheek, purring, and then hopped to the tree branch above him. –Come, come Jauk'cha! Want to kill alien queen today.-

The Yautja grunted. Oh sure, killing alien queens. They'd killed a small one last week. The little hunter had grown tired of hunting predators and had turned her attention to her more 'evil' foe- the xenomorphs. Easy sport. Killing whole hives. Oh yeah. Easy. He eyed a huge slit down his shoulder and rubbed the spot in his waist he'd been impaled twice during the course of that day.

-Could you please have a better battle plan next time- She blinked, looking at him, tilting her head to the side.

-What do you mean-

-I'd prefer not getting stabbed.-

-But you survived. Just don't get stabbed next time.-

She was intelligent, strong, fast, and deadly. But a general she was not. She had no idea, what so ever, how to plan an attack that included her having an ally. Fight, fight, fight, heal ally, eat, eat, and eat. That was the method, the plan, and the strategy. He decided to have a talk with her about strategy. It was something she had to learn, like speaking with her mind had to be something she had to learn.

He was about to call her down from the tree to have a serious conversation with her on strategic, glad he was a master in something she was not, when he suddenly realized something.

He had be prepared to say, 'come down here.' However, he had attempted to call her name first, to get her attention.

That's when he realized he didn't know her name; he'd always just called to her directly by his thoughts. He paused, blinking; and she leaned over a branch, looking at him with equal surprised.

-My name…- she said softly-is Iamathe. I am a Lequian Rehitnue, and I am the last currently living of my kind.- He blinked, silent, staring at her.

-You're so powerful… what happened to the rest of you…-

-Death. Instant death. Killed.-

-How did they die-

It was the first time he ever saw a look of pain cross the little hunter's eyes. She was silent, only he feeling of upset and pain moving from her mind to his.

-No talk about it- she murmured unhappily. For the first in a long while, she was a delicate little creature in his eyes again, and he reached up, gently patting her on the head. He couldn't help it. Something about feeling a creature's pain touched him more then seeing it. This wasn't a weakness- this was the complete genocide of her entire race. He'd probably be upset too. She seem pleased by the pat and pressed her head against his hand. Then she looked at him.

-So… Iamathe… how come you can be so invisible-

-You were on the right track in your thinking.-

-Then how come you can't control your weight? I've heard you mentally complain about it, that you can't make yourself lighter.-

For the second time he was lucky she wasn't human. Female Humans tended to have very negative reactions when asked about their weight.

-Haven't learned that yet.-

-But you've learned to regulate heat and light-

-Yes.-

-And that took time, so regulating weight is going to take time to learn-

-Yes.-

-How old are you-

-Old.- He growled, smiling lightly despite himself. She was so childish sometimes.

Hmm, having a daughter that could beat the crap out of one's father. A human male might compare that to having a 7' daughter on the high school football team. Or a mother-in-law.

* * *

Mox grumbled to herself, adjusting her training armor. It was incredibly light and lucid, allowing her to move without any impediment at all. Unlike the other young males standing in the vicinity, checking their armor, Mox did not bear an assortment of small sculls and finger-bones. They were an impediment. She didn't like them. She did, however, have the fractured upper half of the wing-arm of a particularly nasty bird of prey strapped to her forearm. That was out of the way. Besides, she liked the bone. It reminded her of how she'd proved how much of a better fighter she was then G'tuk. He'd been the one it had gouged the left eye out of. Impaired as he was, he'd been instructed to go an entire year with the loss of vision in that eye. If he survived that year, he could receive a replacement eye.

Every time G'tuk saw the wing bone strapped to her wrist blades, against her forearm, he narrowed his eyes and growled. Oh he hated her. He'd never been so ashamed as when the tiny female bowled into the massive bird with her spear and had promptly torn it apart with her wrist blades.

Mox was silent, closing her eyes as she waited for the trainers to come and take them out into the forests outside. Anyone who dared near her in an attempt to 'wake her up' would be treated to an 'X' carved into his face. Two of the boys in the group already bore the ugly mark. As opposed to most scars, the 'X' was not the one they were proud of. It was testimony to their eternal shame. Oh, Mox bore plenty of scars from where she'd been hit back- had even been soundly beaten by a teacher several times, but it wasn't humiliating for a female to lose to a male. It was the vise versa that was entirely unacceptable in hunter society.

The males ignored Mox. In return, she kept her temper. The males respected the primal female, the feral hunter. In return, she cooperated.

Aic'kan, the trainer who had took her personally under her wing, took a moment to berate her about teamwork and honor. She grumbled under her breath, but took in every word. Aic'kan was the only trainer who could defeat her soundly, without receiving much more than a scratch. He was, thus, the only person she respected and listened to.

Again, instinct. She obeyed those who had proven they were her superiors. Like a wolf, she was below the Alpha male. Until she could beat him.

Aic'kan "This is your first hunt," he cautioned sternly. "Your first REAL hunt. Use your brain, Mox. It's as fast as your blows, even if it's only half as loud. Think. Listen to what your thinking. And for the sake of the god's, hunt! Don't fight your brethren!" Mox muttered out that Uok'ha threw that spear right at her head, he deserved having half his dreadlocks ripped out. Aic'kan cuffed her over the head and she only nipped halfheartedly at his fingers as he drew his hand away. She liked Aic'kan. He was intelligent and knowledgeable about all styles of fighting, including bare-handed fighting. "You have the potential to become a great hunter… I don't know if that matters to you, but you have the potential to be better then all the males you now know- including myself, at least at my present skill level." He was assured Mox was paying attention to him when he received the rarest of rewards- her seldom-heard purr. Good. That meant she would listen to what he said. He sighed, patting her on the shoulder and then turned, moving back to the other trainers.

She had developed well, her mad hacks and thrashes slowly being cultivating and adopting a weak shadow of style. Also, it had only been a year, and Mox had already hit 5'10". That was a good 3 inches, and she had no feminine signs showing up. That meant she had at least a year until she hit puberty, which meant at least 2 years until she stopped growing, which translated into a possible 6 inches. 6'4" might not be awesomely impressive, but at least she'd be tall for a Human- and as she was, after all, half human. Her size would at least be reasonable at 6'4". He winced as he saw her start to clean dried blood off of one of her hands. Oh, the first time he saw her do that he'd had to rapidly keep himself from vomiting. Tongues were disgusting things…


	11. Good Hunting

Iamathe had come to the conclusion that she did not like hail.

Jauk'cha had come to the conclusion that he did not like hail.

Now that they were in agreement about not liking hail, the next question was what were they to do about the problem?

I told you we should have stayed at the cave,- Iamathe grumbled, her mental voice now full blown, fully trained telepathy. -I said, Jauk'cha! Look! A storm! We should stay inside the cave till it passes! But what excuse did you give for leaving?- She proceeded to mimic his telepathy perfectly, -It smells bad in here, I'm leaving.- Jauk'cha growled, trying to shield himself with the alien queen skull he was carrying.

You didn't have to follow me, you know,- he thought. –You could have just staid at the cave…-

And leave you out here to die? Ohhhhh, that would have been just grand!- She said sarcastically. -Stubborn Yautja.-

Oh, shut up. What do you want to do about shelter? Or do you just want to sit here and complain?- Just a week ago, if he had told the little hunter to shut up, she would have pounced on him and raked his mask to shreds. Now, however, she seemed willing to take it, growing used to him and his mild insults. She was just starting to evolve a weak sense of sarcasm, but she seemed opposed to swearing or insulting him directly.

I don't know what you're so unhappy about. You have two Queen skulls- what more could a hunter want?- she said, no aggression in her telepathy now as she looked around for any form of shelter. Not a mean-spirited creature by nature, she quickly forgave the Yautja for wandering out when a storm was about to begin. He grunted.

I only helped take them down, and they're covered in huge holes and gashes.-

Picky,- she accused, smiling telepathically.

The pair was stuck on the side of a mountain, having just come from a Kainde Ameha (Xenomorph) lair some distance up the side. Now, halfway between the forests and foothills and the cave of safety, they were stranded without cover from the hailstorm. Her senses moved out, feeling over the rocks, examining the white landscape…

I see a hollow space with rocks above it. It looks large enough to fit you. Come on.- She bounded ahead over the rocks, holding her wing blades over her head in an effort to deflect the hail. The little thing might be queen of the hunt, but she was no demi-god. And that hail hurt! Not to mention that but that Queen hadn't been a kitten herself. Ia was still brooding over a couple knicks and rakes in her tail. None of them hurt, in particular, but it she didn't like being hit in the first place. Jauk'cha, on the other hand, had been right about tactics. He had saved her from some more severe gashes, and he himself, had managed to avoid getting impaled throughout the entire expedition.

All in all, she was glad to have met the half-crazy Yautja. He taught her things… Helped her learn more… Her fighting style improved some, her new knowledge of strategy helped her plan an assault more thoroughly, and his culture helped her understand that not all hunting was… dishonorable…

But he, in turn, agreed with her that many Yautja were; many, who were viewed as skilled hunters, were more dishonorable then they seemed. She even started allowing him a more expansive collection of skulls, even letting him keep the head of a particularly feral bear they encountered. If the hunter killed the prey honorably, why should he not get to keep the skull?

The pair finally reached the rock overhang and Jauk'cha curled up under it, using the Queen skull to block the wind, which was coming from one side. Iamathe, being small, merely sat on his knee, peering out at the hail. He eyed her silently a long moment, and then decided to ask.

How did you come to be on this planet?- he asked, tilting his head to the side, dreadlocks clinking against one another.

Space vessel. I just came from a volcanic planet. Mostly I was there to hide form those who destroyed my homeland, but it also supplied a warm environment for the egg while I got some hunting done. Later on in development they can maintain themselves, but early on they have to be kept warm constantly- hotter than the temperature water boils at. I could warm it with my body, but I hadn't learned to manipulate that well yet, and I didn't want to give off all the energy it would require to make everything around me boil. So, as the volcanic planet was nearby, it was a convenient choice.- Jauk'cha had blinked, attentive to her every wood after the first few moments of her speech, his mandibles twitching. She had an unborn pup?

Egg?- he asked in his harsh, grunting voice, surprised. She nodded and reached up under one wing arm, detaching what appeared to be a perfectly round obsidian stone around the size of his fist. She extended the egg to him and he blinked, feeling slightly honored, and taking it into his hand, examining it. His brows lifted, his talon stroking over the egg like it were a precious relic- like he would stroke over a trophy he prized. He could feel no life or warmth within it… but in the depths of it, it glowed with a strange dark red. He did not doubt it was indeed an egg.

It is my sister's child. We were racing for the home world and… I lost… She let me carry the egg because we took turns keeping it warm.- Iamathe lowered her head, crystal clear droplets forming in her eyes and making tracks down her feathered cheeks. They dripped from her face, steaming in the snow below. He lifted his head, dreadlocks clinking, and looked at her sympathetically. If Iamathe's presence had done anything for him, it had given him a firmer grasp on emotions- and sympathy.

… And that's how you survived…- Iamathe nodded. -You said 'home world.' How do you travel through space?-

I'll show you later. I feel one more Queen on this world. She is much bigger- the main threat to the predator and animals who live here…-

And then… you will leave?- he trilled softly, a bit upset at the idea of losing his… 'Elder'.

Yes. To find a new home world. And then to find the monsters that destroyed my people… and treat them in kind.- He blinked, not having thought that she could feel revenge. -Only half revenge. Half of it is a judge seeking punishment of a criminal. They destroyed so much. They will destroy so much more…-

Who?- he rumbled, serious.

The enemy of my people. There are many species among them. Humans. Predators… They work together toward one goal…- She lifted her head, sighing, and looked at him. -We stand for purity… and life… Those we kill, we kill for the lives of those they'd destroy. They, on the other hand, stand for corruption… and death… We fight the Xenomorphs. They nurture them. We kill BadBloods. They encourage them.-

Dishonorable,- he said, his mandibles creasing in a sneer.

Evil,- she said, the meaning behind her word matching the meaning behind his.

Is there a way I can help?- he asked gruffly, truly serious.

You could come with me.- He blinked, taken aback, and looked her over, thinking to himself, mandibles clicking together.

I might get in your way.-

You can be an apprentice,- she said, grinning impishly.

For all those who have watched Fantasia, and thus know how this joke plays on Micki Mouse being involved with a sorcerer, a Human male might equate this to being the apprentice of Mini Mouse.

Jauk'cha gave a roar of laugher, hugging her in his big arms. –I have no place here. I go with you, Elder. You teach me to outhunt a Yautja Elder, and we'll call it even.-

We have a lot of work to do.- He growled, mockingly upset, and gave her a playful shove.

Damn cat.-

Stubborn Yautja.-

PS: No, they are not in love. This is more like a brother/sister relationship. TRUST ME. I knoooowww O.O

Mox was silent, her hands tightly coiled into light fists so as not to pierce her own skin with her abnormally sharp talons. She was holding herself rigidly still, watching the scenery before her. There… a slight movement as small mouse began to move again. Immediately it was pounced upon by the dinosaur-like reptile, and seized with a quick snap of the reptiles jaws.

Now.

Mox shot forward like lightning, hurling the spear. She was too loud, too obvious. The reptile dodged the spear, sprinting off, and the Predator gave a hiss of frustration. Recognizing that her temper was getting the better of her, she cloaked, picked up her spear, and contracted it, strapping it to her belt as she ran after the small creature, careful to be silent, and watching where her feet were moving as she listened to the reptile's subtle movements. The animal reached its burrow and quickly hid, its tail disappearing completely inside. Mox reached the hole and examined it. Being small, she had a chance of getting inside the hole… but would that be the best course of action? The reptile had large, meat-hook like claws, and a rake-like bite. Instinct and logic worked together, pushing the female hunter's rage aside, and causing her to observe the direction of the wind. Then she sat downwind of the hole, poised and ready for the instant the thing lifted its head out of the hole. Her spear extended and she waited… and waited…

Mox was the antagonist of the whole idea of 'patience', but Aic'kan had trained her well, so she waited, kneading anything she could get her hand on- rocks, her armor, her spear, her dreadlocks- anything that wouldn't make a noise. Just when her temper was about to flame up again, the reptile poked its head out of the hole. Mox went still, waiting still on the light cliff above the hole, staring intently at it. It backed up a bit and she worried that it might be able to smell her, but eventually it climbed out of the hole. The moment it was out of its burrow the spear crashed down through the back. Her wrist blades flicked out, tearing open its jugular, and it died fairly quickly.

Undeniably pleased, Mox lifted up the reptile as blood sloshed over it, held it above her head, and shrieked out her victory to the sky, the high pitched shriek gradually turning to a victorious roar.

She had already killed one of these reptiles by spooking it on purpose and then digging into its lair. The process had earned her a painful rake on the hand and a claw she'd had to dislodge from her upper ribs. She had not roared at that kill- she'd been wounded in turn, and had been brooding over that fact. This time she roared. Her skill had gotten this kill, rather than her head-strong rage.

After skinning her kill and eating the raw meat, savoring the flavor, she set about to severing its skull and cleaning it. However, as she looked over the brownish skull she frowned examining it. She laid the skull down in her palm, and promptly thought about G'tuk. Desperate to regain his honor, and a bit cocky, he had ranted on and on about going after better prey then the lizards they were instructed to kill…

The skull was punctured and ground to small fragments by the rage instilled in Mox's grip. She opened her eyes and scowled at the skull, having guessed how weak it was. She dropped the pieces and then examined the rest of the body. Finally she examined one of its feet. The bones were stronger there and the scales tough She eyed it a moment and then broke off its hand and skinned it. She finished cleaning the skin and bones, and then replaced the bones and claws in the skin, and tied the scaled skin around them with some leather the males generally used for making necklaces. There… She conjured the memory of G'tuk again and squeezed her trophy tightly in her fingers. Nothing. Content that she would not damage her own trophy, she put that in her pouch instead. It was satisfactory, and she liked it. She picked up the carcass of the lizard and dragged it back to where she'd left the other one she'd killed. She repeated this process, on the same leg, on the other lizard, and crushed its skull, which she had already cleaned. The skulls were worthless to her. Plus, they were bulky. The hand trophies were small and could easily be carried in her pouch.

Mox watched the large ram-like creature walk by, sighing mentally. The horns were beautiful, the scull a thick layer of impenetrable bone, and the teeth were beautiful, as the creature was omnivorous. A young male…

But Mox was supposed to be hunting that lizard in the tree next to her. She was instructed to take down a quantity of those lizards. Any other kills would not count. She only had so long- and she wanted to be viewed as the best. She wanted rank, wanted more weapons, wanted more training. If she failed to please, she would not ascend in rank. She was already a tiny female- she needed to prove her worth by being the best hunter. So she let the sheep-like creature walk by and concentrated on the lizard. Its life was ended quickly, wrist blades pinning its skull to a branch, and Mox made a 'smiling' face, trilling softly. She was getting better at this. Three kills. That was good. Maybe she could try and hunt that young male down…? Would it be worth the effort? Maybe she should just search for lizards.

While she was deciding this and making another hand-trophy for herself, she suddenly heard the young male sheep give a bleating cry. Her eyes flamed in rage and she pocked the trophy, extending her spear and sprinting after it. No one better have attack her sheep! It was hers to hunt and kill! If one of her brethren found it-! It took longer to catch up with the sheep then she expected, at least 2 full minutes. When she reached the location of the bleat, the sheep was not there.

Something else was, however. G'tuk was unconscious against a tree. His arm was black and purple, but straight, indicating he'd reset the bone before blacking out. He was coated in his own green blood and a bit of maroonish sheep blood.

Hmm. Apparently it had been a good decision not to attack the sheep. Whatever species it belonged to appeared to be stronger than she had first anticipated. A predator grin spread across her face. Stupid, stupid G'tuk. Trying to regain his honor the quick way. The 'easy' way. He'd probably entirely underestimated the sheep and just charged at it with a war cry. Mox examined him thoroughly, and found in his possession one small lizard skull. Too precious. She'd far outhunted him on this expedition. Mox smiled down at the larger male and tilted her head to the side, thinking, her dreadlocks clicking lightly together. As she had no rings or bone ornaments in her hair, it did not make much noise.

Hunt. Do not fight with your brethren. Well, she had hunted… now cam the not fighting part. Would it be honorable to pull him to safety, or to leave him here to fight against the elements themselves? A Yautja was expected to survive on their own, but there was a bond between hunters that was to be respected. She should help him- not for her own pride- because he had already failed. He would pay the punishment in not advancing in rank. He need not die in the wilderness. Mox grunted and lifted up the heavier male, muttering about his weight, and making a crude joke about the only muscle unexercised in him was the one in his head. The brain. Then she proceeded to half carry, half drag the larger male back towards the transport they'd taken there.

The hour was later than she thought. By the time she arrived, many of the other students were gathered there, showing off their kills, and the Trainers were powering up the transport. Mox scowled but grinned down at G'tuk's unconscious, masked face. "You saved me from getting left behind. Good boy." She gave him a pat on the head like one would a pet, and promptly dropped him on the ground, going off to retrieve the bodies of her kills.

Only one other boy could boast 3 kills. He was the son of a high elder. Nevertheless, while Mox's hunt was no where near as celebrated, she was allowed to progress into the next stage of training. Irritatingly enough, so was G'tuk. For the life of her, Mox could not understand why he was allowed to progress.


End file.
